


Showing Scars

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, childhood trauma (of sorts), dermatographia, freak shaming, skin writing, though he's not really a freak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a rare condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showing Scars

Sherlock has a secret that nobody knows about. He's scared of what people might think of his condition-the reason he doesn't let anyone touch him-the reason that he wears nothing but long sleeves.

There is a rare condition called _Dermatographia_ , also known as "skin writing". If the skins surface is lightly scratched the mark raises and reddens, very similar to the look of hives. It is painless and can be caused not only by touch, but by emotional distress. Sherlock has been plagued by this condition for some time now, ever since he could remember. The kids in school called him freak, his father was almost sickened by it, Mycroft and Mother Holmes were the only people who cared.

"Sherlock, it does not matter what they think of you. Use this to your advantage." Mycroft would always say to him. He'd come home from school crying, red marks on the pale surface of his skin in the form of hand prints and fist marks.

"Sherlock, love. You are beautiful." His mother would say, taking her hand and showing him the swirls and spirals he could create on his skin. He would giggle, making similar marks. He did this when he couldn't think, when he needed to think, when he was bored, anything. It was a calming motion, but when he looked in the mirror he did not see beauty. He saw what the school children would call him. Freak. Carny. _"Nobody could ever love you, Holmes. Nobody."_

When distressed, he hid himself. The only person in 221B that knows his secret is Mrs. Hudson, when she accidentally scraped her nail on his cheek. She had said sorry, but Sherlock said nothing and merely explained to her what he was. What he had. She cooed and gave him tea, which he gladly accepted.

He was scared to let John know. They had started a relationship right after what happened at the pool with Moriarty. He thought that John would see it there, but luckily he didn't. John wants to advance to something physical, Sherlock can clearly see it in his eyes, but something made him afraid. Though he knew that John loved him, and that he would accept him no matter what, what happened in his youth made him hesitant.

He told himself that he was going to do it today. He was going to tell John about it. He had been in his room trying to develop a speech, or some way he could tell him. When he finally figured it out he burst out of his room, scaring John half to death as he sat on his respected chair.

"John, we need to have a conversation." Sherlock said quietly coming up behind John. He turned around to meet Sherlock's eyes and was almost taken aback.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" John said, seeing that something was upsetting Sherlock.

"Join me on the couch. I'd like to show you something." Sherlock said and walked over to sit down. John followed in suit and sat down quietly next to him. Sherlock said nothing and took a deep breath before carefully pulling his purple shirt sleeve up so that his forearm was showing. He then pulled out a wooden skewer that he'd stolen when Mrs.Hudson was buying them for some cooking purpose. He handed it to John. "I'd like you to draw or write something on my arm. Anything you wish to do. Don't press hard." Sherlock said, his voice quiet and trembling slightly. A smile played about John's lips.

"Is this for a case or something?" He asked.

"I'll show you once you've done it." Sherlock replied. John got closer and made Sherlock put his arm down on his knee so he'd have a sturdier surface. John lightly made something and Sherlock smiled. It reminded him of when his Mother would help him with his his homework and she'd take the eraser of the pencil and make a spiral design on his skin. John leaned back with a satisfied smile.

"Now, what did I do that for?" John asked as he put the skewer behind his ear.

"Wait a moment." Sherlock said and watched his arm. In a matter of thirty seconds the marks started to form. He showed John his forearm, careful not to make eye contact with his partner. 

John watched, awe struck as a crimson flower started to rise to Sherlock's pale skin. "How beautiful, Sherlock! Does it hurt?" 

Sherlock was not expecting those words at all. He looked up at John who was staring back. They looked at each other and it was almost like Sherlock had just come home from school. John's accepting arms there to greet him. Sherlock launched himself at John, wrapping his arms and legs around John's neck and middle section. He stopped himself from crying, for he was a Holmes and Holmes' did not cry in the presence of another.

"Oh, love. You can tell me about it later. I think that I'll make you a cuppa, yeah?" 

He nodded feebly at John's words and untangled his body from his sturdy rock. John walked softly to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Sherlock got up as well and sat at the table.  

"I assume it's a condition?"

"Yes. I've had it ever since I can remember." Sherlock said. The kettle screamed and John hurried to pour it in the teacup. He sat down across from Sherlock and pushed the cup towards him. Sherlock took it with trembling hands and then set it down because it was too hot. John was looking expectantly at him so he set into the story, about how his mother was about the only one that cared and that the reason that he didn't want a physical relationship with John was because he was afraid of what he might think. John nearly looked hurt.

"Sherlock, I will love you no matter what. This only adds on to what makes you beautiful. Exceptional, even." John said and got up to get in front of Sherlock's chair. He leaned down and put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and inched his head towards him. John's lips met his and he felt secure. He felt like he was truly loved and he was. John pulled away and gained his breath as did Sherlock.

"I love you too, John. Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I didn't realize that this would be as liked as it was. Thank you, lovelies! I'm glad you like it. I would like,if I may, to address the matter of podfics/fanart/changing the language. You may do all of those things as long as you ask my permission! Just go to my blog (www.inthedarkyoutellmeoftheflower.tumblr.com) and send me an ask or some fan mail. Thank you again for reading my cheese.


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